


Tangerine Dreams, Risky Blues

by Narryfavoritejiall



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, And he's a bit of an ass too, Babysitter Peter Parker, Coming of Age, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Issues, M/M, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark Has Issues, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narryfavoritejiall/pseuds/Narryfavoritejiall
Summary: And, Peter feels silly, of course he does.Because it's just a summer crush that's turning a bit passionate. Peter feels silly because Mr. Stark is old enough to be his father. Peter feels silly because he is just a kid with the greatest expectations making him savor the almost impossible and long for the romantically erotic craving roaming inside his system negligently.Or. Peter takes a job as the au pair for a rich family and he and Mr. Stark get on like a house on fire.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 15
Kudos: 69





	Tangerine Dreams, Risky Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya... It's been a while since I was active in this fandom, told myself and some of you I probably wouldn't come back but... Here I am and quarantine is a bitch. And damn it feels good to be back. 
> 
> I missed this an u
> 
> I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Mr. Stark _looks_ at him weirdly.

Not in a bad, nauseating way. But in like a meddling, lewd sort of way.

It would make Peter uncomfortable if he didn't like it.

Sometimes Mr. Stark is irreverently careless and just stares at him, with that penetrative, serious glare of his. He drags his eyes up and down and Peter usually pretends he isn't aware of that. When Peter's helping the kids with the homework in the living room and he's with his belly against the floor, feet, and calves dangling up in the air, Mr. Stark sometimes comes to check in and he leans on the doorframe; Peter usually pretends he isn't aware of the dark eyes roaming over his body slowly. 

Peter _usually_ pretends he isn't aware. 

But when he doesn't, and he just blatantly looks up at Mr. Stark's direction and stares back with a bashful crimson blush on his face before giving the man a small, timid smile, Tony always retrieves his gaze and turns around, easy and calm. As if he's never even spare Peter a look.

Mr. Stark has never once returned the smile.

He sometimes looks annoyed or frustrated when Peter does it.

That doesn't stop Peter from not doing it. Even if he's tried. He can't help it. An inevitable grin always makes his thin lips twitch when Mr. Stark is somewhere near him or delivering the slightest bit of miserable attention. 

Peter gets the _tingles._

Sometimes Natasha, from the security staff, catches him staring at Mr. Stark or following him with his eyes around the room. Peter always looks down, embarrassed, when Natasha shakes her head at him discreetly and purses her lips disapprovingly. But there's no mean thought behind it, she looks sometimes like she wants to hide a chuckle. She's nice. Peter likes her the most out of the whole staff that works for Mr. Stark. She's the only one who's tried to make him feel at home. Peter senses a motherly aurora out of her, something he could never grasp and enjoy from his mother. 

Natasha knows about his evident crush. 

Peter didn't tell her, he didn't need to. It's pretty obvious at times and he gets second-hand embarrassment at the thought of that. 

How he goes all stuttery, awkward and clumsy-looking at the times Mr. Stark has said a word to him. _God,_ it's outrageous. 

" _Cute, huh?_ " Natasha once said to him, smirking slightly.

" _W-what?_ "

" _Don't play dumb. I get it, okay? But he's too old for you, kid!_ " She had pointed at him and raised her eyebrows exaggeratedly.

" _I don't know what you're talking about_ ," Peter mumbled, looking down.

Natasha gave him a knowing look that made Peter feel ridiculous at his uttered words.

Peter does his best to not stare at Mr. Stark – but he can't help it sometimes.

Not when Mr. Stark stares at him back. 

–

Mr. Stark is a little scary.

He's austere. He is a man of a few words. Peter doesn't see him smile often, he just does when he feels like spending time with his kids. Peter gets this cramped, deteriorating feel inside him because he wished Mr. Stark would smile at him the same way. He sometimes thinks about it, he thinks about the day Mr. Stark _will_ smile at him but that pretty expectation always comes crumbling down when Mr. Stark just calls him over to scold him about whatever regarding the kids or deliver an order about something meaningless. 

Sometimes, Mr. Stark is rude and he possesses little patient with him. 

Maybe because Peter talks too much sometimes, or is too loud, or too curious, naive or silly. 

But Peter does have patience with him because the man just lost his wife. 

The very first day he began working at the house and finally met Mr. Stark after being hired by his assistant, Peter tried to express his condolences but Mr. Stark just rolled his eyes and walked past him, muttering a quiet, effortless welcoming. 

Peter was taken aback and mortified; the assistant told Peter he would get used to Tony's... _quirks._

Peter has never called him Tony. He wouldn't dare. He thinks it would be disrespectful. Mr. Stark hasn't ever told him to call him by his first name, Peter doubts he ever will. Calling him Tony feels almost too personal and unprofessional. And, Peter won't admit out loud that he's quite fond of the way _Mr. Stark_ rolls off his tongue. 

He whispers vaguely and guiltily when he's alone, with a hand down his pants and the sharp, familiar eyes on his mind. He sucks on his knuckle to contain himself from saying the name again as he imagines the man secretly watching him from the door like he does when Peter's in the living room. 

He. Just. _Can't_. Help. It. 

–

Peter was laying and rolling around on the fresh, perfectly cut grass, just as the two kids were doing. It was cloudy and just starting to rain and Peter couldn't deny the kids when they asked him to go play outside in the rain and mud. 

He laughed as the two sisters push each other into the grass and then launched at Peter. He played chase with them and didn't bother to shush their loud laughs and yells. It was good for them to feel like this after what happened. 

Peter was in the middle of carrying Penny and spinning her around when the loud sound of the sliding door slamming open made them jump and turn around. 

Mr. Stark walked out with a firm step and stopped abruptly, he looks irritated, with an accentuated frown painted deeply on his features. He gave Peter a short, annoyed look, and then his stare softened on the two sisters. 

"Girls, come on in now," He pointed at the house. 

"But, dad–" 

" _Now_ ," Mr. Stark repeated, raising his eyebrows, "You'll play later outside, I promise." 

They huffed but obeyed their father. Tony watched them going in, he hasn't notice Peter was following their trace until Morgan looked at Peter and told him to come with them. 

"No-uh, sorry, sweetheart. Peter's staying, I need to have a word with him, okay?" He smiled tightly at her, "He'll be joining you soon." 

Peter gulped and crossed his arms, stopping at the door, not daring to look up at the man. He just gave Morgan a small, reassuring smile and nodded at her. 

They were left in silence for a moment before Mr. Stark spoke solidly. 

"Come here, Parker," He didn't even bother to face Peter's direction, he was still looking ahead, with his hands in his pocket, he looked relaxed.

And, Peter certainly isn't. 

He slowly walked towards Mr. Stark's way till he was standing before him, keeping a safe distance between them. He was looking down at their shoes but he could feel the other's stare, and it wasn't the same old stare Mr. Stark gives him, this time around was stern and miffed, he almost looked disgusted. He looked at Peter's dirty shoes and face. Peter saw that before he looked away again.

"Did something –"

"What were you thinking?" The man firmly asked, narrowing his eyes.

Peter didn't answer. 

"I remember telling you and the staff that –would you look at me in the eye, Parker? It annoys me greatly when people don't look at me in the eye," He looked at Peter with expectant impatience. 

"Sorry," Peter mumbled, looking at him quickly, he slumped his shoulders and stepped back.

The man continued, "I'm hosting a _very_ important online meeting upstairs, I remember mentioning it a few times, and I remember telling _you_ to keep quiet with the kids."

Peter almost widened his eyes, "Oh, my God, I completely forgot about that, sir. I'm so sorry –"

"I had to interrupt my meeting because the girl's yelling and yours were upsetting my clients," He added, "They were loud and clear."

"I'm sorry–" Peter was interrupted again.

Tony raised a hand, stopping Peter, "And it isn't the girls' fault. It's _yours,_ actually. Are you retarded, Parker?" 

Peter blinked at him quickly and shook his head, he could feel his lip starting to wobble and his eyes burning wet. He looked down but looked up immediately before he could be told to look at the man again. He tried to hide his lips by biting his nails but it was useless, Mr. Stark's judging gaze studying him made him sniff and shred two tears. 

"God," Mr. Stark breathed out when he saw that and rubbed at his face frustratedly. 

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter's voice tried not to crack, he was trying to keep himself together, "It won't happen again." 

The man eyed him before nodding shortly and pointing at the house with his thumb, "Go on now and help the girls get dry." 

Peter quickly walked towards the sliding door without another word or glance to the man but an arm appearing in front of him made him stop and collide against it.

"And clean yourself up, Parker. You cannot be walking around the house like _that_. It's unprofessional. You're part of the staff," He murmured. 

Peter sniffed again and nodded. 

"I don't want to ever repeat myself, Parker." 

"Y-yes, sir." 

Finally, Stark let him go and Peter entered the big house with hurried steps and quickened breaths. His sight was blurred by hot tears and he locked himself in one of the many bathrooms in the house. Peter leaned against the door and let out a soft sob, he wiped out of embarrassment while splashing his face with cold water. He looked at his reflection and rolled his red eyes at his pathetic, dirty appearance. He scrubbed at his face harshly, getting rid of the dry mud making the water on the sink turn a light shade of brown.

"Stupid," He mumbled to himself as he dried his face. 

–

Sometimes, Mr. Stark can be a total and utter dickhead.

He can be hurtful, rude, annoyingly impatient and a snob. 

But Peter couldn't find a sane reason to stay angry at him.

–

Mr. Stark barely spare him a glance during dinner. 

Perhaps he was still upset about what happened earlier that evening. 

Peter found himself staring at the side of Mr. Stark's face as he spoke with one of the girls. He is so handsome. He's so refined and elegant. He's confident and strong. And, Peter always bites his lip unconsciously and shamefully just at the thought of it. 

Mr. Stark's hands are big and wide, he still wears the golden band and the expensive-looking watch adorns his wrist greatly. Peter watched the fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass, he shifted on his seat and drank from his own cup of water. His toes curled nervously as he could only think:

_Mr. Stark must be good with his hands._

Peter snapped out of it when Penny called for him twice till she could get his attention. He looked down at her. 

"Did you hear, Peter? Dad said we could go play outside tomorrow if it rains," She said excitedly, shaking his arm. 

Peter smiled slightly and nodded, "That sounds like fun." 

Mr. Stark was looking at him when Peter looked up, his face was neutral but relaxed, he went back to play with the rim of his glass before looking away from the boy. Peter cleared his throat and shifted on his seat once again, abashed.

Mr. Stark noticed he was looking at _that_ and he still went back to do it. 

Maybe it was mere coincidence, of course –Peter silently hoped not. 

_And_. 

Maybe it wasn't a coincidence, he pondered.

Because when they finished dinner and Peter was helping the maid, Lauren, clean the dishes, Mr. Stark walked by past them and the back of his hand brushed the side of Peter's leg, to low to be considered decent. He could've avoided it, there was plenty of space to walk on, the kitchen was enormous, bigger than Peter's own house, still, he _accidentally_ touched Peter. 

When Peter turned to look at him, Mr. Stark was already gone. 

–

Peter got a spontaneous idea, just like that. Because something was just irking his mind and he needed to fix it. 

"Oh, Edith, I can help you with that," Peter pointed at the tray.

She waved her hand dismissively, "Thank you, sweetheart but I think I got it."

"No, really, I can take it. You go rest, you look tired," He walked towards her. 

"I am tired," Edith chuckled. 

"I'll do it then, it's really no problem at all," He promised with a polite smile.

She eyed the boy suspiciously before sighing and shrugging, already leaving the tray on the counter and walking towards the door, "Fine, if you insist, sweetheart, I owe you so I'll make you your favorite meal tomorrow."

Peter grinned, "Don't worry." 

Peter was left alone in the middle of the large kitchen, he opened the fridge and quickly retrieved a single, small piece of chocolate from a box which is imported, Mr. Stark always munches on one around this hour. Peter hasn't tried it, he can't even pronounce the name of the chocolate but he knows Mr. Stark really likes them, he keeps the boxes in the fridge.

He placed the chocolate on the tray and carefully balanced the food and drink on it as he walked upstairs.

He took a shower for this, ridiculously so. He took a shower, scrubbed at his skin, and then put on that drugstore cologne he's got. He combed his hair to the side and wore the jeans that make Mr. Stark look at him the most –Here, Peter Parker, literally pampered himself up nice and pretty just to deliver something to Mr. Stark and see him for a few seconds only. And, to be ignored or dismissed vaguely probably. 

_Pathetically hopeful, he is._

Peter took a breath and knocked on the door twice. He bit the inside of his cheek and moved his leg impatiently when his heart began beating a tad more quickly than usual. 

After a long, unnecessary moment, Mr. Stark's voice echoed, permitting him to enter. 

Peter almost dropped the tray when he grabbed it with one hand to open the door with the other but he managed. He entered the office. He's only been there twice; when he first met Mr. Stark and when he had to come and collect Morgan while his dad was working, Mr. Stark of course scolded Peter for letting her in during work hours, even if it was an accident. 

The office is big and cold, it's dark too; Peter looked around it and then at Mr. Stark who still hasn't looked up from the papers on his hands, a glass, half-filled with liquor lays close to his right hand and he's sitting in a big, black chair that seemed comfortable enough to fit two people in. 

Peter could fit there, next to Mr. Stark and maybe blow his –

"Uh, hi, Mr. Stark," Peter said awkwardly, standing by the door. 

The man looked up at him, distracted, "Oh, Parker, didn't know it was you," He looked at the papers again, "Are the girls okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah, they're getting ready for bed," Peter cleared his throat and started walking towards the desk, "I, uh, I brought you what you asked for dinner, sir." 

Tony looked up again and confusedly, eyed the tray, then Peter, he pointed his pen at him, "Where's Edith, and why are you bringing this to me?" 

"Oh, Edith needed help, I volunteered," He smiled crookedly. 

Mr. Stark eyed him for a bit more before nodding and pointing at the desk, "You can leave it there." 

Peter carefully leaned over to place the tray on the wood surface, he felt Mr. Stark's gaze on him and when he looked up at him, Mr. Stark looked away with an unbothered expression; Peter gulped and placed his hands behind himself. 

He unconsciously performed a submissive posture –he finds himself doing that quite often around Mr. Stark. 

It's just that the man is so... _consumingly_ intimidating and intense. 

Peter's hungry, suddenly. 

"Anything else?" Tony asked when he saw Peter still standing there. 

Peter stammered with embarrassment and shifted on his spot, "I brought you this too."

"What?" Tony tilted his head.

Peter brought a hand from behind himself and pointed at the small chocolate on the side of the tray, "I noticed you like them." 

"Indeed," Tony grabbed the chocolate, inspecting it. 

The boy cleared his throat and draw his gaze down for this, "I... wanted to apologize for earlier's... issue," He fumbled with his fingers nervously, "I feel quite bad." 

Mr. Stark didn't speak.

Peter _did_ wait for him to do so, at least hum dismissively or sigh. But nothing echoed inside the large, quiet office. It was awful. Peter felt awful. It was humiliating. Peter felt humiliated. It was pathetic. Peter _is_ pathetic.

He is a pathetic little thing, isn't he? 

The little hope and excitement he was feeling before coming into the room turned into overwhelming anxiety, running through his blood and blurring his mind. Peter felt like crying but he wouldn't cry, he doesn't want Mr. Stark to see him cry a second time today. He would just walk away. 

And, he did. 

"G-good night, Mr. Stark." 

Peter turned around with a hurried step of his feet and walked towards a badly needed exit, he tried to get smaller by slumping his shoulders and tightly crossing his arms on his chest. 

"Parker." 

Mr. Stark's voice made him stop abruptly. 

The boy turned around slowly. Tony's looking at him calmly, it's almost soothing to Peter. All of a sudden, Tony stood up from his seat and walked around the desk slowly till he was standing at the front and leaning back on the edge of it. Peter stared at him, intrigued. Tony pocketed one of his hands and presented the other with the chocolate to Peter. 

"Have you try these?" 

Peter shook his head no. 

"What's your favorite chocolate?" The man asked casually, he then unwrapped the foil and took a bit of the chocolate, leaving half of it. 

Peter stared. And _stared_. He wondered how it would feel and taste to kiss Mr. Stark lips smudge with chocolate and liquor, Peter would hold tight onto his tie to bring him down to his level and savor him, Mr. Stark would grab at his hips or ass, squeezing him, feeling him, harassing him. But Peter would be okay with it. 

Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows, "So?" 

"I don't have one, I think," Peter shrugged. 

Tony hummed and looked down at the munched-on piece of sweet before offering his arm out, "Here, try this one." 

Peter was left dumbfounded, _clearly_. He looked at Tony and waited for him to laugh or tell him to fuck off. But he was still holding up the chocolate towards Peter's direction with an expectant expression. Peter looked behind himself, stupidly so, and then at Tony, his heart accelerated as he started giving in to the few steps separating them. 

He thought this was a joke but Mr. Stark looked serious. He thought this was strange but Peter didn't mind, he would never mind trying a piece of candy that Mr. Stark just bit into. 

What does that mean? 

It must have a meaning, right? 

No normal boss offers this or do this with their employees (or staff as Mr. Stark likes to call them), it passes that invisible, professional, fine line. Someone like _Mr. Stark_ most likely wouldn't do this –but here they were. 

And the only thing Peter could do was to just - contently - go with it. 

Oh, he did. 

Peter didn't grab the chocolate from the other's hand, instead, when he was close enough, he leaned his head in and took the piece of sweet from Mr. Stark's long fingers with his mouth, his lips barely brush the other's fingers. Peter looked at Mr. Stark the whole time, wide-eyed and perplexed, Peter looked like someone who's heart was threatening to kill him at how fast it was beating. 

It was worth it, the death would be worth it because Peter would be left satisfied at the way Mr. Stark _almost_ looked dumbfounded and surprised himself. 

But in the end, he played it cool. He stared at Peter all the time too, carefully, longingly, _hungrily_ , as if Peter was the mere chocolate itself. 

Peter munched on the expensive dessert and watched Mr. Stark lifted his hand to lick at the smudged chocolate left on his two fingers. Peter smiled shyly behind his own fingers, in exchange, instead of looking away, Tony's eyes acquired a funny gleam and his lips curled at the side, almost turning into a smile but not quite, you had to squint hard to see it. 

But Peter saw it. He saw the little gesture. He _occasioned_ it. 

And he almost swooned to the floor and took off his clothes and life for Mr. Stark to take, take and take from him if he wanted to. 

"It's yummy," Peter mumbled with a nod, afraid of breaking the moment and making it disappear. 

Mr. Stark still had the same expression, he mumbled too, "Yeah?" 

Peter hummed and licked his lips that tasted sweet now. Tony watched that and looked at Peter again with a heavy gaze, Peter was about to step closer, he didn't know why, till he was invading Mr. Stark's personal space perhaps, or till he could unmake the first buttons of his dress shirt and kiss the uncovered skin, or till he could step on his tiptoes and give Mr. Stark a peck on the lips and then run away like a coward, or till he could let Mr. Stark eat his face and body, to consume him completely and leave him panting and gasping for life and air while laying on that mere wooden desk. 

Just as Peter was about to step closer, Mr. Stark was lifting a hand towards his direction, he didn't know what Mr. Stark was going to do, he could have either grab at him or push him away. 

Peter couldn't find out, annoyingly so. 

Because, Morgan was at the door frame, rubbing at her eye sleepily. 

And, just like that, like a curse, they redrew the distance between them again. As if a piece of hot metal burned them with all its might. Tony walked behind his desk again and Peter turned away from him, his hands began shaking immediately so he crossed his arms to hide it. 

"What is it, sweetheart?" The man said easily after clearing his throat. 

"I can't find Teddy and I can't sleep without him," She moaned moodily. 

"Peter here will help you find it," Tony said, "I'll go in a sec to read you and your sister a book, okay?" 

She nodded and made grabby hands at Peter, he carried her in his arms and rubbed her back in a comforting way as they walked away. Before leaving the office, Peter looked back at the man to see if he was looking at him too. 

But, he wasn't. He had stood up and was staring outside the window with the glass of warm liquor in his hand.

Damn Peter, he just finished falling entirely and completely into the pointless, childish, lewd hole of the inevitable, sanguine desire he has for Mr. Stark. 

–

Everything was different from that day. 

And Peter couldn't exactly say that negatively.

–

Peter can't stop thinking about the way Mr. Stark's fingers - barely - brushed against his lips when he _fed_ Peter that stupid-ass expensive chocolate. 

Mr. Stark looks at Peter even more deliberately than before, with an irreverent, interested gleam in his dark eyes. 

Ever since that day at the office. 

It was as if an unspoken barrier broke open. 

Now, when Peter catches him staring, it takes longer for Tony to take his gaze away. Like that time Peter was helping the girls fill in their color book in the bright green grass of the patio and Mr. Stark came out to check on them, and when Peter noticed him he had a drink on his hand and was leaning against the sliding door, he was already looking at Peter and he didn't look away when Peter stared down his way, he only raised the glass to his lips and drank the warm-looking liquor as his eyes roamed languidly over Peter's relaxed form.

Peter's insides twisted hornily in love. Peter offered him a small, discreet smile. It was then that Mr. Stark turned around and headed back inside.

He's concluded: Mr. Stark always looks and walks away from him when Peter smiles. 

It's like that makes Mr. Stark sober up and realize what he's doing. As if he can't put up with the kind, sweet gesture, he even looks annoyed, but lately, he doesn't look annoyed at Peter anymore. He looks annoyed at himself. 

Still, that won't make Peter stop smiling at the man.

Peter is waiting till the smile is returned. Peter wants Mr. Stark to smile at him and caress his cheek, Peter wants Mr. Stark to smile at him as he kisses him, Peter wants Mr. Stark to smile at him as they look at each other from afar or hook up in a closet. Peter wants to ride Mr. Stark and have him smiling at him as he does it.

He just _wants_ Mr. Stark.

Fuck, he just wants it. 

Everything. Whatever. Whenever. However – as long as Mr. Stark is the one providing.

And, Peter feels silly, of course, he does, because it's just a summer crush that's turning a bit passionate. Peter feels silly because Mr. Stark is old enough to be his father. Peter feels silly because he is just a kid with the greatest expectations making him savor the almost impossible and long for the romantically erotic craving roaming inside his system negligently. 

_Mr. Stark_. 

–

Peter has always had a fixation and liking for older men. 

He doesn't know where it came from. Maybe he does. Perhaps he isn't sure. But having his dad walk away from his life at a very young age fucked something up inside his brain. Ever since Peter can remember, he's always looked for and desired a man's approval, to have them pat his head and tell him he's doing good, or guide him when he is feeling lost, or teach him things nobody has ever teach him or take care of him like he can't do so himself. And it has always been a platonic, childish, and even foolish thing.

Until he hit his teens and his body started developing hormones that he couldn't recognize when he started discovering and exploring himself sexually and guiltily. 

It was then that, that demanding approval from older man turned corrupted, it turned tainted, it turned sexual. 

Peter didn't want to just be called smart and be told he is a good kid, at least he didn't just want that. He began thinking of an older man's hands on his young, developing body, squeezing him, hurting him, pleasuring him. He began thinking of bearded cheeks scratching the insides of his legs as he grips dark hairs mixed with greys, pushing the head even more in between his legs. He began thinking of big, mature hands holding his wrist and trapping him down till he became scared. He began thinking of being hidden and admired in the dark by an older man because the world would judge them if their secret got out with the wind. 

He began thinking of getting fucked into the floor till he was hurting all over. 

To then be cradled into a man's arms and kissed Peter's inexperienced lips in an experienced way. 

And, he felt bad, he felt disgusting, he felt betrayed by his own mind and heart –because he wasn't _normal._

He always wondered why couldn't he like boys his age, or why couldn't he _just_ likes girls. 

He tried but it did no use. He tried dating a girl and while they kissed, Peter's mind would go back to the way his middle-aged, married P. E teacher's cock bulged against his sports sweatpants. 

Peter never went sexual with the girl, even when they tried, he couldn't. He always put on an excuse. He always felt sick to his stomach when she would begin touching him below his waist. And Peter felt sad because she was nice, smart, and kind. He wished he liked girls at some point in his self-discovery experience.

He would lie to himself and her but he stopped doing it all together when he started sneaking to the lockers' room to let himself be groped and kissed carelessly by that senior from the football team who acted like a homophobic dick in public to hide the fact he wasn't that much of a straight. 

Peter stopped seeing her, just to hang out at the weekends with the senior at his house and experiment with each other instead.

It was simply that. An experiment, it was practice; Peter told himself, for when a _real_ man crossed his way, Peter would know what to do and what to expect already. 

And, shame on him. All that work has gone to waste. Because, Peter doesn't know what to expect from Mr. Stark. 

But, Peter does know what to do.

–

Sometimes Peter fantasies about getting caught. 

Not by anyone, no, he would be mortified –just by Mr. Stark. 

He fantasies greedily about getting caught when he is in the room he was giving for the summer when he is in the dark and the only thing illuminating him is the light from the patio coming through the window when the blanket is by his feet and his underwear is down his ankles as he lays on his belly and his eyes are closed because he is to busy hugging a pillow and grinding into it. 

Peter doesn't shut the door correctly and Mr. Stark walks by and hears the drowned, soft sighs, he stops to open the door more and lean on the doorframe to watch. 

Peter notices and his eyes open and, irreverent as ever, he doesn't care and stares back. 

They don't stop looking at each other, Peter keeps grinding his bare hardness into the silky pillow till he drives himself mad. Tony's eyes wandered down to Peter's naked, little ass flexing and clenching as his grinding became more erratic. Peter's hands and arms are under himself and the pillow, pushing it more against him in search of dirty friction. 

It only takes a few seconds before Peter's orgasming, belly quivering with a single, breathless moan escaping and Tony watches with dark, toxic hunger in his eyes that makes Peter close his eyes in shameful deprivation. 

_He fantasies_.

–

The day was welcomed with a super sunny sky and warm air making that was a bit uncomfortable to feel on the skin. Peter would have been woken up to the humidity raising if it wasn't for the AC blasting coldness, but instead, he was woken up by the two girls, stumping into his room and jumping up and down his bed at 8 a.m with an energy that should be considered illegal at this time of the day. 

Peter groaned and hid his face in the pillow as the girls yelled and pulled at his legs. 

"Wake up, Peter! It's pool day!" Morgan said excitedly, stepping on his back to walk on it. 

"Ow," Peter muttered sleepily, his body still laid limp, "It's too early, I don't have to get up yet." 

"Yes, you do, because it's pool day!" Penny pulled at his hoodie determinedly. 

"We can wait until ten, I'll make you guys fruit snacks, huh?" Peter finally turned around, chuckling when Morgan launched at him to hug him, it almost knocked his air off but he wrapped her in his arms. 

"But we want the pool and fruit snacks now. The pool is already cleaned, Peter," Penny pouted at him exaggeratedly. 

Peter rolled his eyes and shoved her face away playfully. 

"Dad told us to wake you up," Morgan said. 

Peter's half-closed eyes opened some more, "He did?" 

"Yeah, and dad will be there too. He told us he didn't have work today," Penny clapped her hands animatedly. 

"Oh," Peter mumbled and sat down, acquiring the same smile the girls were porting. 

He felt guilty for a second but the thought of having Mr. Stark watching them –watching _him_ in the pool sent an electric wave of tingles on his belly. 

Because he knew Mr. Stark will be watching. 

"Peter, please? We got water guns," The girls said. 

He sighed, "Well, get out and let me get ready then." 

Peter fell back with a giggle when the two sisters tackled him back by hugging him at the same time. 

He was suddenly eager to feel the summer sky burning his back hot like Mr. Stark's eyes would do. 

–

Peter wore the only pair of swim trunks that he owns and brought, they're a bit worn out and feel smaller than they used to be on him, they felt uncomfortable but he was already walking towards the kitchen that leads to the backyard. He pulled at the fabric on his hips and crotch area, trying to accommodate de shorts properly. It was useless. 

Before he could open the sliding door, he saw Mr. Stark not that far away leaning his side on the wall where the outdoor living room was. Peter hesitated for a second before quickly bringing his hands above his head and pulling off his shirt by the back, he crumbled it in his arm and looked down at himself. 

He couldn't tell if he looked good or not –Peter seldom feels good about himself. 

Still, he walked out like that and Mr. Stark didn't seem to notice him. He was smiling fondly at the two sisters playing around in the pool. Peter likes seeing Mr. Stark like that, it's a good change from the usual frown or irritated expression. Peter felt scared, suddenly. Because he didn't want to disrupt the man or burst the bubble, somehow, Mr. Stark seems to get rapidly annoyed when Peter is around. Peter doesn't understand it and it kinda hurts. Natasha told him that Tony acted that way with everyone except with his kids and deceased wife. 

But that's a lie. He knows it. 

She only said that to make Peter feel better when she found him crying and hiccuping anxiously after the first time Mr. Stark scolded him with a firm, loud voice after he accidentally forgot to wake up early. 

He knows that Tony acting like a mean, frustrated asshole most of the time isn't directed towards everyone because he's seen him joking around and hugging Natasha. They seem really good friends that care for each other. 

Peter has caught her speaking with Mr. Stark and saying with a stern voice ' _Give the kid a break, Tony_ ' –it doesn't do much but at least it makes Peter feel slightly better. 

He doesn't think he understands yet the apparent abhor Tony seems to towards Peter. 

He is just a _kid_. 

It's a mere, fucking whiplash having Mr. Stark acting like Peter's the biggest annoyance while eating him up with his gaze like a hungry falcon. 

The worst of it all, Peter _doesn't_ mind. 

He likes it, god will damn him. 

Peter stopped walking till he was standing behind Tony. He has one of his hands in his pocket while the other holds a drink, when he brought it to his mouth Peter quickly tapped his shoulder lightly with his finger. Tony turned his head around only and look down at Peter. 

"Hey, Parker, they are waiting for you," He nodded at the two sisters in the pool. 

"Yeah," Peter nodded and carefully asked, "Aren't you getting in?" 

He was about to add _with us_ but wisely decided not to. 

Tony looked at him shortly, "No, that's why you're here. I have work to do. I'll only stay here for a bit. So, you'll have to distract the girls." 

"Oh," He nodded again, "Okay, sure." 

Mr. Stark didn't say another word, he went back to watching his daughters while taking small sips from the drink that looked good enough for Peter to taste it from the man's mouth directly and get sloppy drunk. 

Peter closed his throat and looked down for a second before he could get caught staring, which made his eyes notice the sunscreen laying on the beach chair sitting by Tony's side. He brought his sunscreen bottle but left it upstairs, he could go to his room and retrieve it in a hustle. But Peter didn't. 

Why would he if he could just–

"Can I borrow that?" 

Peter's smile was small, timid, even cautious. Mr. Stark looked at him again with a confused expression. Peter stretched his arm and pointed at the sunscreen. Mr. Stark looked at it and shrugged, leaning down to grab the thing loosely. He handed him the bottle, barely sparing him a glance. 

_Ridiculous_. Peter thought to himself. 

The boy effortlessly put on the sunscreen. He could care less about sun protection, honestly. He lazily rubbed the skin of his arms and legs, he didn't stop staring at the back of Tony's head, almost waiting for him to turn around and find Peter looking already, as he slowly brushed his pale skin, making it gleam because of the oily substance glistening under the sun. Tony wasn't looking at him. Nor even trying no to look at him. It was as if Peter wasn't even there. 

And Peter _hated_ it. 

He wanted to punch Tony's back and force him to look back at him but he restrained himself, easily so, instead; he decided to act out in a more sane way. 

_Sort of._

"Mr. Stark?" He heard Tony hum, lips against the rim of his glass. Peter shifted on his spot nervously and sighed before speaking, "... I can't reach my back. Can you help me?" 

That made the man turn his head around with a small frown on his face, he eyed Peter and the presented sunscreen with a wary expression, he brought the glass to his lips to calmly drink the liquor. 

Peter stared at that and smiled shyly sweet, "Please?" 

He is risking it. Peter was merely expecting Tony to turn around and leave him there, and this would be nothing but a failed plan and Peter would be left feeling empty and humiliated. 

But –

The man was leaning down to leave his drink on the beach chair, then he was turning around to fully face Peter. Peter bit his upper lip anxiously and stared up at him as he gave a step towards Peter. He took the bottle from his hand and nodded at Peter. 

"Turn around." 

Peter's stomach churned. He obeyed. He obeyed as if Mr. Stark would have told him that in a different situation, where Peter's only wearing a shirt and socks and Tony's trousers are pooling around his ankles. 

Peter faced the wall, he felt Tony's presence behind him close but at the same time a little too far away. Peter didn't know what to do with his arms so he crossed them on his chest and straightened his back. Then, the sound of the bottle of sunscreen squirting in Tony's palm made Peter breathed in calmly in eager anticipation. 

This could be platonic, innocent, and even kind. Just as if his father or uncle was rubbing sunscreen on his back on a sunny day because they're worried Peter could get sunburnt. Yet, nobody has ever care if Peter could get sunburnt. So having Tony willing to do this created an illusion inside Peter's head that made his heart throbbed shamefully and lips twitch. The illusion of Tony caring; which was a little silly to think, yet comforting. 

Yes, this could be a platonic, white innocent gesture. 

But that mere possibility faded away as soon as Tony's warm hand glided smoothly over Peter's shoulder blades. Peter looked down, feeling awkward. His cock twitched embarrassedly fast, he felt the urge to reach down and fix himself. Or touch himself. Tony's other hand joined in and they slid on his shoulders, slowly getting the sunscreen across his warm skin. It was nice. Peter likes Mr. Stark's hands, sometimes he finds himself staring at them when they all have dinner. Peter has always wondered how the hands would feel like on his flesh, touching him, groping him, hurting him, and caressing him. 

And, now, ironically enough, he's feeling them on him, and to be fair, Peter feels like falling back and let himself be caught by the strong arms and kissed sloppily by the mature lips. 

Tony offhandedly rub the sunscreen in, only maintain his hands on his shoulders blades, never going an inch down his middle. It was respectful. Peter rolled his eyes, like a fucking brat who isn't getting what he wants. Thankfully he wasn't facing Mr. Stark, but he kind of wanted him to see that.

Peter felt like he couldn't breathe. Peter felt a little disappointed too, Tony could have taken advantage and touch him without decency. He knew Tony would. But, maybe Peter needed that decency because Tony's daughters are just a few feet apart and Peter knows Tony is a good man, even if sometimes it doesn't quite seem like it. 

That disappointment died down precipitately when Mr. Stark dragged his hands down his sides sluggishly, the thick fingers almost gripped him, the hold was strong but soft enough to make the little hairs on Peter's skin stand up and breath get caught up in his throat. Peter's sure the lithe and ginger touch wasn't an accident, at least he hopes. 

He hopes the touch was intentional, calculated, wanted. 

Peter stood there, slightly turning his head back but not daring to look at the man in the eye. 

The hands stopped at his hips, they tightened on the flesh, it almost passed unnoticed at how vague the action was - but Peter noticed - then, they quickly pulled away. 

The gesture was short, yet it felt long.

It left Peter's skin and belly feeling warm and tingly. 

Peter stood there for a second, he didn't move when Mr. Stark was suddenly clearing his throat, he sounded closer than Peter expected as if Mr. Stark was standing just an inch away from him. Their shadows on the wall gave him away; Tony had stepped in closer and Peter couldn't tell when he did that but he didn't care. No, he didn't give a fuck. Because he could only think about Tony's proximity and the heat radiating off him. 

Peter has a theory – That he can brush against Tony with the simplest move. 

Peter shifted on his spot and the back of his arm accidentally touched Tony's chest. Peter looked down with a crimson blush on his neck and a stomach projecting careless butterflies. He bit his lip to push back a threatening grin. He was about to turn around, to finally look at Mr. Stark, to watch Tony stare at him, to see the expression on his face, to have him admire Peter carnally, as he always does. 

But, the man spoke abruptly. 

"I can see your underwear, Parker," He said casually, almost in an impolite mocking tone, "Didn't they teach you that underwear doesn't go _under_ bathing suits?"

Peter turned around without a rush, he was looking at his feet as he did so until he stopped to stand right in front and close to the man. He played with his own hands as looked up and shrugged slowly. Tony looked serious but he was raising an eyebrow, his eyes darted down Peter's body promptly before connecting with his again. 

A small silly smile stretched his cherry lips, "The shorts are itchy on me." 

"Interesting," Tony murmured, distractedly. 

Peter's fingers played with his bottom lip, it was in a nervous, anxious manner but his smile didn't fade and Tony didn't walk away.

Tony stared at him and his dry lips. He stared at how sweet and pristine Peter looked. He stared at his flushed cheeks and naked chest. He admired how much smaller and you Peter is. He admired what shouldn't be admired like that. Tony's features softened the slightest bit when Peter's smile widened.

"Peter, come on, get in!" 

That made them sober up, suddenly they were looking away from each other and Tony was stepping back as far as he could from Peter, as if he was the plague. He had acquired a frown again and he grabbed his glass to neck down the last bit of alcohol as the girls waved Peter over. 

Peter smiled slightly and waved back, he looked at Tony then, "I should go." 

The man nodded shortly, still staring ahead. 

He looks like an asshole again. 

And, God damn Peter. He loves every single thing about that. 

Peter began walking off, towards the enormous pool, but he didn't leave the man's side before looking back and smiling shortly. 

"Thank you, Mr. Stark." 

He felt the dark eyes burning desire on his glistening back before Tony left with a quiet slam of the sliding door. 

–

Around 3 o'clock the girls finally got tired after swimming uncontrollably, eating pizza and tons of popsicles that Peter kept bringing to their request. He played with them for a bit but he mostly stayed on the grass with a towel under him, sunbathing and drinking the pink lemonade Edith so kindly prepared him. He decided to stay outside to supervise the girls and scold them whenever they would start fighting. 

Peter was tired too, his eyelids felt heavy and he just wanted to go take a long nap after he got out of the shower and changed into dry clothes. 

The girls were waiting for him in the living room to watch a movie. As Peter walked towards the stairs he held a basket in his arm to pick up the toys and forgotten things that the two sisters leave behind. He sighed when he leaned down to pick up a single sock that laid just outside Mr. Stark's office. The door was opened and the room was deserted. 

That door is shut most of the time just as Mr. Stark spends his days secluded behind it. Peter has seldom seen it opened; everyone has to knock, except for the sisters, Mr. Stark is secretly soft for them. 

Peter looked around, bending down to drop the basket on the floor carefully. Natasha told him something about Tony going out to have a drink with some friends –Okay, Natasha didn't _tell_ him, per se. Peter 'accidentally' heard them conversing in the kitchen. Natasha convinced Tony of going out to distract himself and clear his burdening mind. 

Tony doesn't go out as much since his wife died –Peter wished he could distract Tony himself. 

So, Peter entered the office.

Slowly and quietly, he closed the door behind him and looks around himself with cautious nervousness. His bare feet brushed on the soft carpet under him as he walked towards the wide desk with an accelerating pulse. He looked at the computer and organized papers. He played with a pen there, he got the sudden urge of turning on the computer and seeing what he could find, just for mere _curiosity._ But, Peter didn't do it, that wouldn't be okay and he's sure Mr. Stark would notice anyway. 

Peter caught the sight of an empty chocolate box in the trash; the box of chocolates that Tony likes so much and was kind ~~_unseemly_~~ enough to share one with Peter. 

He's growing addicted –addicted to the discreet and more personal attention Tony's giving him little by little. 

Peter wants more. He needs more. He demands more. He claims more. 

God fuck him, he _will_ have more. 

_"I can see your underwear, Parker."_

He tried to be as swift and quick as he could, with shaky fingers Peter unbuttoned his jeans, dragged the zipper open, and pulled them down his legs to clumsily step out of them. He looked at the door as if someone would burst right in but proceeded with just a little hesitation, he hooked his fingers on the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down all the same till they pooled around his ankles and Peter kicked them away. 

Peter stood there, half-naked and shivering. 

Before he was moving hurriedly to put on _just_ his jeans. Peter cringed at the feeling of his naked flesh and crotch coming in contact with the harsh material of the denim but he zipped them close anyway. 

"Peter, where are you!" Morgan's loud voice echoed in the hallway. 

"Fuck, fuck," The boy whispered-yelled with mortification and spoke towards the door, "U-uh –I'm coming!" 

Before Peter could leave, he leaned down to grab the discarded underwear; his small, grey, _Fruit Of The Loom_ pair of briefs that had been worn for a quite long time but still were decent enough. They were similar to the ones Peter wore to the pool earlier that evening. 

They were similar to the ones Tony noticed. 

Peter panted and folded the underwear messily, only for him to leave it in the perfect middle of the desk, above some documents and on plain sight. It laid there, the grey fabric contrasted with the white papers, and the photo frame of Tony's wife and their daughters was not so far away from it. Peter looked down but he quickly redirected his gaze back up.

He doesn't care, to be completely honest. 

Peter can only think about Mr. Stark –and him only.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to read your thoughts and critiques because I'm a hoe for that ;D
> 
> xo, Narry


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